


Fidelis Ad Mortem

by WolfieOnAO3



Series: The Brewer's Dictionary of Short Stories [7]
Category: Raffles (TV 1977), Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Bunny working himself into a tizz as usual, Crime and Cricket, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Angst, miscommunictation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23665246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfieOnAO3/pseuds/WolfieOnAO3
Summary: The longer I waited, the more bitter and unhappy I became, dwelling on real and imagined slights inflicted upon me by this Prince of Professors. This jewel of the cricket field. This most singular, wonderful, dangerous of men, A.J. Raffles.  I began to believe, all of this is to say, that Raffles cared not a jot for me at all.For the Brewer's Prompt: Billy
Relationships: Bunny Manders/A. J. Raffles
Series: The Brewer's Dictionary of Short Stories [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691002
Comments: 18
Kudos: 12





	Fidelis Ad Mortem

**Author's Note:**

> _Billy_  
>  _In North American use a policeman’s truncheon. The word probably comes from the personal name Billy._  
>  \- Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable

‘Is he not the most colossal ass you have ever had the misfortune of listening to, Bunny?’

Raffles and I had been dining at the club. We had not planned on socialising to any great extent that evening, other than with one another, but Raffles’ cricketing fame had preceded him. Before we had time to even taste our first sip of after-dinner whisky, we found ourselves accosted by enthusiastic followers of both the sport and of A.J. himself. Soon he had been pressed into accepting an invitation to join the group in the club’s privately reserved rooms. And I, as the ever overlooked, ever orbiting moon to Raffles' sun, found myself dragged into the throng along with him

The guest of honour of this party, so it transpired, was a portly man of about sixty, with a heavy, drooping moustache and salt-and-pepper hair to match. The deep set lines about his forehead and eyes and the high colour of his fleshy cheeks suggested a serious and taxing career, and one which saw him outdoors as often as not. And yet the hard set of his jaw, the Roman nose, the piercing blue eyes and his easy smile all spoke to an attractiveness in youth that even the mark of his many years and a too-hearty appreciation of food and drink could not mask.

The man was former Police Captain John Richardson of the New York Metropole, retired. I soon learned, in spite of my best efforts, that he had come to live in England after his retirement and upon his marriage to an English girl some thirty years his junior. So too he told everyone who would listen, he was in his home state “ _o_ _ne hell of a big fish”_ . This gathering, hosted and paid for by the man himself, was a clear and transparent attempt at ingratiating himself with _“his kinda men_ ”, as he put it. As such the party was populated half by gentlemen-about-town of various ilks, and the remainder by former denizens of Scotland Yard. To say that I was uncomfortable would be quite the understatement.

‘I don’t know how much longer I can bear this,’ Raffles whispered, leaning in close to my ear so as to avoid being overheard. ‘What a bunch of intolerable bores they all are. If I up and make a run for it, will you be ready to follow at my heels, my good rabbit?’

‘Shh, A.J.!’ I hissed back. ‘You were the one who agreed to join this damned party, not me. If you are suffering for it now that is your just penance. Now, I for one do not want to draw the attention of Yarders, retired or otherwise. So please just stand still and be _quiet_.’ 

‘You’re being rather hard on a chap tonight, Bunny, old boy,’ he replied. The effect of the hurt tone in his voice was however lessened quite considerably by the sardonic sparkle in his eyes.

And yet perhaps I was being a touch harsh on old A.J. I was not in the most forgiving of moods. Raffles was not wrong in his assessment of Captain Richardson. The man was most decidedly one of nature’s great asses. Even if I were feeling inclined towards socialising this evening, which I was not, this former Chief of Police would not have been my first choice of companion. He would not have been my _hundredth._ And a room half-filled with ex-policemen would surely have been anxiety-inducing for even the most law abiding men, let alone consummate criminals such as ourselves. I was on edge and, I am sorry to say, rather taking it out on poor Raffles. After all, he was as much a victim of this pouncing-upon as I. Still, my present humor was of neither empathy nor equanimity.

‘If I am being hard on you, it is no less than you deserve for letting us get dragged into this,’ I snapped back. ‘And if you think that I am going to--’

I was cut off in my chastisement by a cheer from the room. Evidently our venerable host, to who’s tedious and overlong speech neither Raffles nor myself had been paying heed, had said something to rouse and excite the equally tedious men around us.

‘My good sirs, let me yell ya, that man was the single greatest cracksman New York city has ever seen! All of America, maybe! The likes of him won’t be seen again for a _vurry_ long time!’ 

Raffles jabbed me with his elbow. ‘I say, Bunny, perhaps we should have been paying attention after all. This is much more like it!’

‘And that cracksman, that criminal, that lowdown dirty _thief_ got put away by none other than yers truly!’

Another round of cheers and claps rippled through the smoky room.

‘That’s right! He was a damned clever feller, but he weren’t no match fer _me_. I tell you plain, there ain’t no criminal on God’s green earth that ever got the better of Captain John Richardson, and ain’t none that ever will!’ 

‘I say, I say,’ Raffles called out. ‘Excuse me, Captain?’ 

‘Ah, Mr Raffles, ain’t it? My little lady wife has been orderin’ me to get into that game of Cricket of yours. Can’t say I like it much, but I ain’t the type to be beat by anything, criminals or cricket! Maybe you can give me some pointers some time, now that we’re both members of this here prestigious establishment, whaddya say?’ He laughed like an avalanche in a mountain range, and Raffles smiled back like a shark. ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ he continued. ‘I believe you were goin’ to ask me something, what?’

‘Quite so,’ Raffles replied, all charm. ‘I have to admit to being rather enthralled by this cracksman tale of yours. Who was he, anyone we might have read about in the papers over here? And how did you manage to catch the blighter in the end?’

The old man waved a specious hand. ‘I doubt you would’a heard of him over here. As cracking a cracksman as he was, burglary is just burglary at the end’a the day, nothin’ partickerly remarkable about it, is there? Unless he goes and steals the crown jewels, or such like!’

‘As you say.’

‘As fer how I caught him, well, that’s one hell of a tale. Too much of one fer an evenin’ as advanced as this - my dear little missus ain’t keen on me gettin’ home late, and I ain’t the kinda man to upset his lady. Suffice it to say, Mr Raffles, that it was a combination of wits, deduction, planning, and _this_!’

Upon that last word he pulled with a flourish from his jacket pocket a marvellously engraved police truncheon.

‘This little beauty caught the rake clean on the side of his head. Went down like a sack a’ bricks! Didn’t know what hit ‘im. Until he woke up, that is! The boys in my precinct got it engraved for me as a retirement gift. Come over here, and take a closer look, Mr Raffles. You and yer little pal there. Look here. You see there? That's my initials carved right into the wood there. And underneath all up the shaft of the thing, you see there? That says _Fidelis Ad Mortem_ , you know what that means?’

‘“Faithful Unto Death”, I do believe,’ Raffles offered.

‘That’s the New York Police Department’s motto, don’t ya know? And this pretty little bit of silver here is a miniature police badge. Now isn’t that just the neatest thing you ever saw? They put a solid ring of gold around the grip too. Not mighty practical, but I don’t plan on using it to crack the skulls of anymore cracksmen now I'm retired! Hell, if I'm gonna become the English Gent that my darling little Anne wants me to, I'd be best off puttin' that energy into crackin' cricket balls, am I right?'

Raffles laughed with all amiability, and carried on the conversation as it led onto cricket as sociably and urbanely as ever he did. Now that the evening's talk had turned into the dual avenues of his two primary interests, crime and cricket, all social recalcitrance on Raffles' part had fled, along with his apparent interest in me. I stood in taciturn silence as the evening wore ever on, until eventually I tired of it all and made my excuses to go. I had half expected Raffles to leave with me, to invite me back to the Albany for drinks and to retrieve some of the lost hours of communion of which this infernal police chief had robbed us, but no such luck. Raffles had merely clapped me on the shoulder and told me he would catch up with me later in the week. Even the dazzling smile he shot at me as we parted went little way in abetting my irritation at an evening so utterly wasted.

I neither saw nor heard from Raffles for the entirety of that next week. His treatment of me rankled, and like a petulant child I refused to call him on the telephone or pay him a visit. He had said _he_ would catch up with _me_ , after all, and I certainly wasn't going to absolve him of that promise. But the longer I waited, the more bitter and unhappy I became, dwelling on real and imagined slights inflicted upon me by this _Prince of Professors._ This jewel of the cricket field. This most singular, wonderful, dangerous of men, A.J. Raffles. 

I heard via acquaintances at the club that he had taken up with that confounded Captain Richardson and his pretty young wife, taking them to cricket matches and what have you. How he could treat me so rakishly I could not fathom. I, his partner in crime, his truest and most loyal of friends. I who had risked life and liberty for him on more than one occasion, so flippantly cast off when better society presented itself. Abandonned the moment he had new men and women to fawn over him. I began to dwell upon all of the times he had failed to tell me of his plans. All of the times he had turned me from his right hand man to his catspaw. All of the times he had disappeared for days, even _weeks_ on end with not a word to me on where he was or what he was doing.

I began to believe, all of this is to say, that A.J. Raffles cared not a jot for me at all.

It was in this most melancholy of moods that I heard my telephone ringing in the hallway.

‘Hullo?’ I answered sullenly. ‘Manders. What is it?’

‘Hello, Bunny old chap!’

‘Raffles.’

‘I was beginning to think you’d bolted, little rabbit. I’d expected you at the Albany on Wednesday, we were due to go to the theatre. Did you forget?’

In fact I had forgotten, caught up in my brooding as I had been. 

‘Of course I didn't. I simply didn’t feel like it.’

‘Oh, well, no harm done then. The theatre is a blasted place if one isn’t in the mood for it.’

‘Hm. Quite so.’

‘Well, then, if all is well with you I shan’t keep you! Goodbye, Bunny!’

Goodbye, Bunny? _Goodbye, Bunny?_ After the way I imagined myself to have been treated that week, this peremptory dismissal stung like salt in a wound, and I went and poured myself a stiff drink and threw myself into my armchair to stew. I had just swallowed the final mouthful and decided to go out, when I heard a knock at my door. In no mood for social niceties I was still engaged in pulling on my coat as I opened the door.

‘I’m sorry, you’ve caught me just as I was about to-- Oh. Raffles.’

‘Hallo, Bunny! Off out, are you?’

‘Well, yes, but--’

‘Couldn’t spare me five minutes could you, dear chap? Sullivan and a cofffee, if I might be so bold? Fool I am, I left my cigarette case at home.’

‘Oh, well, yes. Fine. Come in.’

With a warm smile which was already taking a fine turn against my resolve to be cross with him, Raffles swanned into my rooms and leaned up against the mantlepiece. I poured him out a short glass of whisky - for I hadn't any coffee to hand-, and offered him a cigarette. We stood in silence. Raffles' penetrating gaze fell upon me as he smoked. It felt as though he could read my very thoughts and see into my very soul. A quite unfair advantage, if you ask me.

At length, he spoke.

‘I have something for you.’

‘Hm? Have you? I'm surprised; you seemed to have forgotten my existence entirely,' I snapped.

'I suppose you think I have been off gallivanting this week, Bunny,’ he said with an irritatingly charming smile, ‘but it hasn't been all fun and games for me, I can tell you!’

‘It’s no business of mine how you spend your time,’ I replied coldly.

Raffles laughed. ‘I suppose not. Nevertheless, I think you will be quite interested in my week's work.’

‘Work?’ I asked, glancing up at him, feeling the warmth of his smile send a flush to my ears in spite of myself. ‘And you didn’t think to involve me? Didn’t need me, I suppose. Why should you?’

‘Tsk! What a rabbit it is for jumping to conclusions! I _always_ need you, Bunny. But, it is true, your presence wouldn’t have served my purposes at all in this instance. It would have spoiled the surprise, for one.’

Without flourish, he pulled from his jacket pocket none other than retired Police Captain Richardson’s engraved billy club, and held it out to me laid across his palms.

‘I had to add the “A” and your initials by hand. Obviously I couldn’t take it to an engraver. Still, quite a neat job I made of it, if I do say so myself.’

I gingerly took the heavy stick from his hands. He had carved an “A” in front of Captain John Richardson’s initials, and below this had added, engraved in his own hand, the letters “ _B.M.”_ , and a tiny pair of rabbit ears.

‘Well,’ Raffles continued lightly as he helped himself to a second cigarette, ‘as soon as the insufferable man had boasted that no criminal could ever outsmart him, I knew that I needed to put one over on him. He was practically asking for it. Then when he showed us that gorgeous piece of weaponry art, with initials so nearly my own, my mind was made up. And, of course, with that motto on it, it was quite clear that I must steal it for _you_.’

As he spoke, I saw the events of the week and my own behaviour from Raffles’ perspective. I had sulked all evening before leaving in a huff, forgotten our theatre plans without apology, and had refused to even telephone him. All Raffles had done was leave me to my own company - and as a man who frequently sunk to moods where he was desirous of no company than his own, he was always accommodating when he believed I was in a similar humor. He had accepted all of this ill-temper on my part without the slightest hint of resentment in return. I saw suddenly that I had been a self-absorbed ass this entire week, and worse, one determined in his self-pity to cast poor Raffles in the worst possible light! Dear old A.J. had done little worse than fail to be telepathic.

And even more, he had in fact spent the week casing this former police Captain with a view to stealing a gift _for me._ And what a gift it was!

‘A.J., I--’ I cleared my throat. ‘I owe you an apology. I have spent this past week thinking that-- Well. I thought you had thrown me over, to be quite honest with you.’

Raffles laughed at me and shook his head. ‘You? Never. _Faitfhful_ _to the end_ to my dearest little rabbit,' he said, gesturing to the billy club in my hands. 'Now, let me tell you about the burglary itself, as it was quite a--’

Before I knew what I was about, I threw my arms about his neck.

‘Steady on, Bunny!’ he laughed as I babbled words of apology and gratitude and endearment into his shoulder. ‘Let me at least put down my whisky, first!’

 _A._ **_J.R_ ** _  
__B.M.  
_ (\\_/)  
 **_Fidelis_ ** **_  
_****_Ad  
_ ** **_Mortem_**


End file.
